


Shiver

by pleasant_grendel



Category: End Days - Laufer, In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasant_grendel/pseuds/pleasant_grendel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No correction, just cover up <br/>She can't afford to come off <br/>hard cause she's too cold to shiver <br/>Too cold to shiver</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic for the characters of the play End Days that takes place in a world very similar to the show In The Flesh. None of these characters belong to me. Unfortunately I don't have a Beta for this so I apologize for any errors. I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave a comment.

Her eyes were greeted by a darkness. It lasted for a moment before she was able to make out the dim vision of off white satin hanging over her. Grey fingertips began to scrape against the fabric. Corse long nails scratched and scratched. A noise escapes her and it's unlike any sound she's ever made before. Harsh, wild against her throat, it's a growl. She pushes. She pushes and...

 

“Rachel?”

She jolts up in her chair. The doctor across from her stares for a second, probably thinking she had just spaced out rather than experienced an involitary memory. _Thank God_. 

He asks his question again.“Who is the person you're looking forward to seeing the most.”

“Probably my mom. I mean, I'm excited to see my dad too, but...” Rachel bit her lip. It was a nervous tick she had. The small, sharp pain would help her focus, but she felt nothing. “I dont feel like I'm ready to go back. Can't I stay here a little longer?”

“You're nervous. You're _feeling_ again. It means you're ready to go back.”

“I'm just afraid of what I might do. What if I -”

“Rachel.” The doctor leaned forward, look of forced encouragement smeared across his face. “Say it now. What are you?”

Rachel rolled her once brown now void of color eyes. “I am a partically deceased syndrome sufferer. And what I did-” She swallows hard at the thought, rushing through the rest “What I did in my untreated state was not my fault.”

“Good.” He gets up, gesturing toward the office door. Rachel follows suit. “I'm sure your parents will be happy to see you. Take care, Rachel. Next!”

Rachel rushes out of the room as the next person brushes past her inside. Waiting along the wall She could see a line that stretched out for hours of others: others like her. Rachel made her way back to her room. The treatment center was like a warehouse* and they were like cattle. Maybe having some space to roam would do her good. Maybe...

 

PDS sufferers didn't eat, they didn't drink. Due to this they didn't need to urinate or deficate either. But what they could do was breathe. It was what made them the strange beings they were. No blood flow, but oxygen circulating through there lungs regardless. Rachel was thankful for the familiarity of something she once took for granted. They could also sleep. Rachel could do without it. Falling asleep was like being in the ground again. Closing her eyes for the night was like drawing that horendous eggshell sheet over her body again. It was like a trap. The worst part though was disappearance of dreams. They used to be so vivid. Without them was like being dead all over again. That night before her parents came Rachel didn't get any sleep.

“Your parents are here.”

She looked up from her hands to face one of the treatment center employees. She had covered them with makeup along with her face. She was also wearing contacts that mimicked the darkness her irises used to have. She had fallen short of looking normal though. It was artifical, an obvious way to hide: a child behind a curtain with their feet carelessing pocking out underneath.

Rachel stood up, following him out to a the main corridor of the center.

“Rachel!”

Sylvia Stein dropped to her knees and began to cry. She promised herself she wouldn't do that, but her daughter was back. It was a miracle. Her daughter was saved.

“Mom?” She stared at her mother then rushed to help her up. “Mom stop it. You're making a scene.”

“I'm just- I'm so happy you're back, Rachel.”

Rachel couldn't remember ever seeing her mother cry. “Where's dad?”

“You're father's at home. He's-” _He hasn't left the house in weeks._ “He's sorry he couldn't make it, but you'll see him in a little bit, dear. Come on.” She took Rachel's hand, flinching when she touched the icy skin. “You'll see him when we get home.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Thank you, Jesus.” Sylvia Stein peered into the review mirror, addressing the messiah in the backseat.

“You're welcome, Sylvia.”

“Mom?” She was pulled out of the conversation by her daughter sitting in the passenger seat.

“Yes, what is it dear?”  
Rachel raised an eyebrow at her mother before asking if she could turn down the radio.

“Sure, dear.” Sylvia lowered the volume on the christian music. The car fell silent. “Your father and I are so happy to have you back, Rachel.”

“Are you?” She didn't mean to say it out loud, but after regaining cognitive ability Rachel had trouble seperating her thoughts and her spoken words. It's not like this mattered though, Rachel had always been very vocal about her feelings.

“Of course!” Sylvia nearly shouted. “Why wouldn't we be?”

“Because I'm a monster.”

Sylvia's hands begin to shake so she tightens her grip on the steering wheel.

“Easy, Sylvia,” The voice of her savior whispers in her ear, “She's just as scared as you.”

“Rachel, what happened to you is a gift, a blessing. It was a miracle-”

“Miracle? What are you talking about, mom? What's with you and this music and the 'thank you, Jesus's? What-”

“Rachel, please stop shouting.” Sylvia kept her eyes on the road ahead. She _was_ scared. She was absolutely terriefied, but she couldn't let Rachel see that. “While you were...away I found a savior in Christ.”

“What?”

“I'm a practicing Christian now and I've found great relief in it. You and your father should come to church with me this Sunday. I think it'll do you a lot of good.”

“I can't believe this.” Rachel turns to look out the window at the blur of trees passing by her. “I die and you find Jesus. Fucking typical.”

“Please don't curse, Rachel.” Sylvia spoke softly, almost inaudiable. Up until her daughter's death she had happily avoided religion, but after Rachel had left it made everything easier. The stereotype was true. It was easy for her to find faith in despair.

“Where's dad? At bible camp or some shit.”

“You're father's at home. He's-” She sighed deeply before continueing. “He hasn't been himself since lately.”

“He hasn't been himself in years.” Rachel quiped back.

“I mean he been having a hard time since you...since you...” Syliva found herself trembling again as the memory of Rachel's death resurfaced. She dug her nails into the padding of the steering wheel, but it produced no results. Her voice was shaking. She was anything but calm. She wanted to scream and force everything out of her body all at once. She wanted to get rid of this horrible greif. Rachel was beside her. It didn't make sense for her to feel this way. “Your father was the one who found you.”

“He was?”

“He thought it was his fault. He blames himself.”

Rachel didn't know what to say so she turned toward the window once again. “He shouldn't.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading the second chapter of this! I'm sorry that I'm terrible at scheduling and releasing new chapters (on this fic and fics in general), but please be patient with me. I'm really excited for this project and will use it mostly as a means of working with relationships and character study. Thanks again for reading.


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